


Sometimes I Still Feel The Bruise

by little_murmaider



Series: I Hope You Die. I Hope We Both Die. [2]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Hello and welcome to Corpse Chattin' with your host Nathan Explosion, Literally that literally happens, M/M, Mutilation, Nathan touches Magnus's heart, Post-Doomstar Requiem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_murmaider/pseuds/little_murmaider
Summary: They need to decide what to do with Magnus's body.





	Sometimes I Still Feel The Bruise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaxVobis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxVobis/gifts).



> Sequel to The Mess Inside. All of my Nathan/Magnus stories have to be [named after Mountain Goats songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1WFEFb3Q18). It is Werewolf Law.

He was unearthed from the rubble days later. He spent another week rotting in the bowels of Mordhaus, a week of discord and hushed, tense discussions of _protocol_ among Klokateers. Offdensen’s departure left a void at the top of Dethklok Inc’s chain of command. Unclear who to report to, and sick of being shirked by superiors, Klokateer #24601 went to Nathan. She needed a decision on what to do with the body.  
  
All she wanted was someone to make a call. Bury him. Throw him out to sea. Tie him to a rocket and launch him into the sun. Anything. Nathan didn’t need to see the body to give an answer. He didn’t need to accompany her through a winding labyrinth of stone, past an arcade of old world doors that did little to muffle the screams of torment within. He didn’t need to expose himself to this, breathing through his mouth to curb the stench of old blood and bleach. He didn’t need to reopen that wound.  
  
He didn’t need to. But he wanted to. So he did.  
  
When they reached the chamber where the body was contained, Nathan hesitated. Torchlight burnished the dank walls with a menacing crimson glow. He knew whatever awaited him within would be ugly.  
  
“Can I uhhhhhh,” Nathan rubbed at a spot of wetness that had dripped onto his shirt. He chose to believe it was rainwater. “Would you hang back a second, and give me a minute with him?”  
  
24601 nodded, bowing reverently. To give him an extra measure of privacy, she strided several paces away from him. When she was at an adequate distance, Nathan turned back to the door. His guts churned, his veins sang with dread. Rats bustled at his feet, sniffing curiously at the hair of space between the door’s edge and the floor. He swallowed. He went in.   
  
Compared to the medieval air of the hall, the room was shockingly contemporary. Pristine, reinforced steel walls, the familiar hum of fluorescent light. At the center was Magnus, his mutilated body prone on a raised metal table. The smell was unfathomable; decay shoved its grubby hands down Nathan’s throat and clenched his lungs. Fallen debris had crushed the lower half of Magnus’s body, his legs like soft molding sausage. Sallow skin stretched tight against the bones of his face, his eyes open and vacuous. His throat was gnawed open with the nimble bite marks of a small animal. Blood and dirt had congealed in an inky ooze around his still-open wounds--one through the shoulder (which Nathan had seen) and one through the chest (which he had not). The knowledge the second, fatal injury was self-inflicted mixed a complex blend of emotions in him. He touched the black, silty muck close to Magnus’s heart.  
  
A memory burst in Nathan’s mind like an aneurysm: Magnus, shirtless in their shared kitchen, holding aloft a mug and smiling in the placid, empty way of print catalogues.

“I like my coffee like I like my me,” he said. His smile grew forced and laced with contempt. “ **_Bitter_ **.”  
  
Nathan chuckled. Another joined his.

“I wasn’t such a bad guy, was I?” Magnus asked, his head lolling in Nathan’s direction. His vocal chords vibrated with each word. Nathan grimaced.  
  
“ **_Nooooooo._ ** But, just for fun, let’s run through your rap sheet.” He counted off on his fingers. “Kidnapping, extortion, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, **_twice_ ** .”  
  
Magnus’s eyebrows sank. “Still not over that, huh.”  
  
“Aggravated assault, conspiring with a terrorist organization, collusion--”  
  
“What am I, drafting a fantasy football team?”  
  
“ _That haircut_ .”  
  
“ _Yeeeeeee-ouch_.” 

Nathan lurched close to Magnus’s deteriorating face.  
  
“You're an asshole.” 

Magnus blinked. “Undisputed.”

“Why the _fuck_ did you get mixed up with the Revengencers?”

“Eh, you know. Revenge, betrayal, unquenchable desire to secure my legacy. The sexy reasons.”

“Toki and Abigail almost _died_.”

“Hey, how about a little sympathy for me? I **did** die!”

His chest cavity lay open like the doors of a broken cuckoo clock. Nathan’s focus zeroed in on his exposed heart, a lacerated beet. His fingers twitched.  
  
“Mind if I…”

“Go wild man,” he said with a shrug. “I’m nothing more than a manifestation of your grief and regret, not like I can stop you.”

His hand settled on the clammy skin. His fingers crawled experimental toward the gash, hovering at the entrance, then sinking into the still warm sick of his organs. The heart was drier than he expected. He remembered high school biology, the way his blade sliced clean through the frog’s chest, the dull sheen of its innards.

“Yeugh,” he said. “You did a number on yourself.”

Magnus laughed.“You know me, I am nothing if not thorough.”  
  
The arteries were swollen, the ventricles hollow. His fingers traveled across the main infliction, wide and decisive, then explored further. He searched for fissures, for an irreparable break. One he was sure he created.

“You just got to take ownership of _everything_ , huh boy-o?” Fluorescent light glinted from his grey teeth. “Even my death?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Magnus softened.

“You didn’t do this. _I_ did this. _I_ chose this. This?” He gestured at his mangled body with a theatrical flick of his wrist. “Isn’t your fault.”  
  
“We could have figured something out,” Nathan said, half-cocked and unconvincing. Magnus shook his head.  
  
“Nah, man.”  
  
“The other guys would come around…”  
  
“You’re funny. You’re real funny.” His eyes flicked down, his brow furrowing. “I wasn’t a bad guy, Nate.”  
  
“I know.” Nathan palmed Magnus’s heart. It seemed unreal, something that seemed so robust could fit in his hand. He smiled from the side of his mouth. “What’s hell like?”  
  
Magnus grinned. “Fucking rad, dude.”  
  
The sound of the door opening drew his attention. He turned to find 24601 in the threshold, back straight.  
  
“Sire,” she said, “have you decided how you would like to dispose of him?”  
  
Nathan glanced back and Magnus was gone, a husk of possibility. He tucked his hand in his back pocket to wipe the blood in the interior fabric.  
  
“Viking funeral.”  
  
24601 started, but composed herself. “Excuse me?”  
  
Nathan needed to get out. He looked over his shoulder once more at the remains of Magnus, then brunted out, shouldering past 24601.  
  
“Viking funeral. At night, off the property. Keep it small, alright? Lowkey.”  
  
“You want me to throw a lowkey Viking funeral?”  
  
“And don’t let the other guys find out. If they get wind of this, there will be,” he whirled to face her, but kept in shadow so she would not see his expression. “... **_repercussions_ ** .”  
  
She nodded. “Understood, sire.”  
  
Nathan moved in the direction they came from. 240601 trotted after him. “Now get me the fuck out of here.”

24601 maneuvered ahead of him and they proceeded on. As he followed, Nathan looked down at his hand. The dark smear of blood stuck beneath his nails, almost indistinguishable from the shadow of his black nail polish. He closed his fist and stuffed it in pocket. Even after it washed away, a piece of him would always remain.


End file.
